


Searching

by scholarlydragon



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Fear, Gen, Race Against Time, Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-14 14:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scholarlydragon/pseuds/scholarlydragon
Summary: Fear is a powerful motivator.Hades' thoughts in episode 40.





	Searching

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: dialogue and plot from episode 40 of “Lore Olympus”
> 
> “Between the conception  
> And the creation,  
> Between the emotion  
> And the response,  
> Falls the Shadow.”  
> — T.S. Eliot “The Hollow Men”

I hardly notice the glass shattering.

Sleet stings my face, as icy as the needles of fear pricking my lungs, and the cold weight of the bident is in my hand almost before conscious thought can summon it.

I can’t get there fast enough.

The question of what in all the names of the Fates am I doing crosses my mind, only to be swept away like so much chaff before the hurricane of fear devouring me. I have no time to worry about the reasons behind, or consequences for, my actions. The only rationale is “ _ find her _ ”. The consequences do not bear thinking about.

As I clear the next building, ducking my head against the breaking of yet more glass as I hurl myself through the window, a flash of pink catches my eye. I stop dead, hovering, jaw slack.

There is a tree.

There is…  _ a tree _ growing out of Tower 4… Pink flowers sway and droop in the rain, obstinate in the face of everything I know about my own realm. Very little grows here, let alone massive trees sprouting from Tartarus itself. Yet, there it is.

I have no time to consider this impossibility. The memory of her face, captured in a moment of terror on the video feed, spurs me onward. If only I can fly fast enough, I might be able to escape the look of fear in her eyes as the shade loomed closer.

As I near the tower, it becomes clear that the tree is not an anomaly of its own. There is an entire forest. The branches and rampant growth have ruptured the walls and I dart in through a broken window, landing on the outskirts of this impossible forest. Cold rain pelts the leaves through the broken windows and the scent of damp growing things mixes strangely with the musty, decayed scent of the shades that dwell here.

I move into the forest, summoning tendrils of my power as pale blue streaks weaving through the air, calling out.

“Kore?!”

A dry rattle sounds among the trees, bones drumming on wood. A shade, impaled through the ribcage and choking on a spray of pink blooms, writhes. Ignoring the miserable creature, I move on. She is not here.

The shades hover uncertainly between the trees, most hanging back, but some venture closer to inspect the intruder. Tartarus is not a place for easy souls, but I have no fear of these particular beings. However, they could prove problematic with the search if they decide to follow me. I push down the urgency surging in my gut, screaming at me to move faster. It will be worth the small delay to know I have dealt with this particular obstacle before it might become a problem.

Sharp raps against a nearby trunk set the bident’s tines vibrating, blue wisps of light spilling out. The shadows seem to vibrate with it and the bident glows blue-white as I intone a command.

“Συγκαλεῖσθε.” _ Assemble _ .

Shadowy figures drift closer through the trees, drawing closer, instinctively attentive to my commands. They halt a respectful distance away, deference shown to me as their king. The thought rises that Persephone has no such hope of respect from these condemned souls and it’s all I can do to maintain composure and not rush headlong through the forest, searching for her. Pushing away the fear, I command the shades once more.

“Now, don’t move.”

Freezing stock-still, obedient to their king, they hold their last positions, not even glancing at me as I move among them, finally continuing deeper into Tartarus. The air grows colder as I go, my breath puffing white. Brushing aside a trailing vine, I whisk the bident away to nothingness with a gesture. There is no longer need for it. The shades will not move again until I give them leave. I call out again. 

“ _ Kore _ ?!”

There is no answer. As each agonizingly long moment stretches on, the dread of what I will find grows. I can’t stop until I know. For good or ill, I cannot stop until I find her.

As I round the trunk of a massive tree, an odd glow in the gloom catches my attention. There, on a bed of blue-green moss, a single white shoe. Bending to lift the tiny thing, I stare at it resting in my palm for a moment. It is proof of so much. She truly is here-  _ as though the forest could leave any doubt _ \- and it would seem I am on the right track. But what sort of danger might she have been in to have lost the shoe…? Was she running, fleeing something? Am I yet too late?

Clutching my fingers closed around the shoe, I call out again, fear near to closing my throat.

“ **_Kore_ ** ?!”

“H-H-Hades…” The longed for sound of her voice shivers, whisper-thin, between branches and I dart forward. As I push through the screen of branches, I see her at last. Persephone is arched backward, hands locked around the forearm of a skeletal shade. The creature is transfixed, impaled by green growth that explodes from it, bursting from its eye sockets, but she is caught just as surely, black talons wrapped around her throat. It cannot advance further, but she cannot free herself.

Relief at finding her floods through me and I snap my fingers, exerting my power as lord of this realm. The shade immediately dissolves to wisps of smoke, vanishing. Persephone gasps in much needed air and spins, hair flying, her panting breath white. She leans back against a tree trunk, trembling, hands still drawn up as though to ward off an attack from lurking shades.

“Hades- I’m so sorry-” she exclaims, heaving breath breaking up her words.

I am struck dumb. She is apologizing… She was the one in danger and she is  _ apologizing _ to me. I don’t even think before I fall to my knees in front of her, relief near sapping my strength.

I wrap my hands around the chilled solidity of her shoulders and I can breathe again.


End file.
